


In Good Company

by angeladex



Series: Dysfunctional Teen Mutant Club [9]
Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Dysfunctional Teen Mutant Club, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Jamie Madrox is a cinnamon roll, Let Jamie have friends, Nightmares, Rahne had a shitty childhood, Rogue wins the 'not as big a bitch as she could have been' award, Scott can be pretentious, Scott had a shitty childhood, Tabby can be an asshole, Tabitha had a shitty childhood, drawing from Comic canon, especially trauma, implied/referenced trauma, let the teens swear, season 2 companion, sharing is caring, unsanctioned therapy exercises as a way of coping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-30
Updated: 2007-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28897386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeladex/pseuds/angeladex
Summary: It was a dream she could do without, Tabby Smith decided, sitting up and feeling quite shaky and sick. She kicked the remaining twisted bedclothes away from her, setting her feet unsteadily on the floor. She shared a room with fellow newbie Amara Aquilla, but Amara was sleeping soundly, not plagued by dreams of jail cells and exploding lasagna.We know the backgrounds of our favorite xchildren. Some are more unpleasant than others. Perhaps it's time they start a club. companion piece to 'Of Mutants, Soccer, and Portuguese,' with reference to this club Roberto speaks of. Tabbycentric.
Series: Dysfunctional Teen Mutant Club [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935622
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	In Good Company

It was a dream she could do without, Tabby Smith decided, sitting up and feeling quite shaky and sick. She kicked the remaining twisted bedclothes away from her, setting her feet unsteadily on the floor. She shared a room with fellow newbie Amara Aquilla, but Amara was sleeping soundly, not plagued by dreams of jail cells and exploding lasagna.

She started loping unevenly into the hall, yawning loudly, not caring about disturbing anyone, and muttering darkly as she stubbed her toe. “Damn table moved itself,” she said tiredly, hopping on one foot for a few paces.

“T-Tabitha?”

“Whozzat?” Tabby articulated, turning and nearly falling over. She felt a small pair of hands steadying her and she shifted her gaze back to look at…Jamie?

“Hey, Jimbo, whatcha doin’ up?” she asked conversationally, leaning on him as he and another boy helped her down the stairs.

“We c-could ask you the same thing,” Jamie Madrox answered on her right.

“Yeah. At least w- _we’re_ being quiet,” Jamie Madrox elaborated on her left.

“Come on, don’ do dis t’ me,” she muttered, looking back and forth between the pair. “’M tired ‘nuff as it is.”

“If you’re so t-tired, Tabitha, why are you up?”

Tabby grew slightly more coherent at that thought. Damn. Stupid kid making her think like that. “Dunno,” she lied, shaking off the hands of the Jamies and stretching, opening her eyes more as she approached her destination – the kitchen.

“Well, if you don’t want to tell, I don’t either,” Jamie decided, re-absorbing his clone with a look of concentration.

“Deal, kid. So cookies, or graham crackers?”

“Huh?”

“I myself am partial to the cookie, but graham crackers have their appeal some nights, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jamie made a gasp of surprise, which Tabby soon echoed. It seemed their kitchen venture had not been made alone.

“Aw man,” came the clear voice of Roberto DaCosta, “Are we gonna have to get t-shirts? ‘Dysfunctional Teen-Mutant Club?’ My poor _mãe_ will be most _desencorajado_.”

“Ah’m partial to black,” came Rogue’s voice, grinning into a mug of steaming liquid that Tabby could only assume was coffee.

Tabby blinked in amazement. Herself, Jamie, Rogue, Roberto, Rahne Sinclair, of all people, and Scott Summers, their fearless leader. They were gathered around the kitchen table, each with a few cookies in front of them, and Rogue’s mysterious coffee, though there was no coffeepot in sight.

“Look, Jimbo, they’re cookie fiends, every one of them,” Tabby said, not addressing how surreal it was to see all of them so late at night.

“We ain’t cookie fiends,” Rogue said, pushing the box towards them.

“But…” Jamie left his objection in the air, flushing as everyone looked at him.

“Jamie, d’ye not feel like cookies?” asked Rahne kindly, her face looking oddly obscured by her freefalling hair, not held back as it usually was in its little ponytails.

“Jimbo and I were discussing the point, weren’t we Jim? Graham crackers call to us tonight,” Tabby interceded, grinning as Jamie shot her a thankful look.

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” Scott agreed readily, reaching automatically to a cupboard above the refrigerator. “I keep ‘em here so Kurt won’t eat them all,” he explained, grinning at the accusatory looks from Rogue and Roberto.

“Lahke he could reach up there,” Rogue said, a rare grin crossing her face. “Ah think you just want the whole box for yourself.”

Scott just shook his head, smiling and setting the box on the table next to the half-empty box of cookies.

Jamie, Tabby noticed, waited until everyone had reached in and taken their share before going for the box. She’d forgotten what it was to be 12, and afraid of the older kids. Rogue, though, seemed to notice the same thing, and she broke her cracker in half, offering Jamie the remaining square.

“If you want, you can have some of this too,” she added kindly, indicating the steaming mug.

“It’s all right,” Jamie said carefully, like he was trying not to be rude. “I don’t like coffee very much.”

“Ah’ll letcha in on somethin,’” Rogue whispered conspiratorially, “This ain’t coffee. Ah just heated up some water in the microwave and put chocolate syrup in it.”

“It’s…It’s cocoa?” Jamie asked in surprise, taking the mug and peering into it.

“Well, I must say, you didn’t stike me as a late-night cocoa drinker, Rogue,” Tabby said, smirking as the southerner scowled at her.

“You tryin’ to start somethin’ Yank?”

“Come on, Rogue,” Roberto chided, grinning, “You live in New York now too. Don’t be calling Tabby a _ianque_.”

“Ah’m just sayin’ Ah don’t have to answer to her about mah business,” Rogue said exasperatedly, like she’d had this conversation too many times for her liking.

“Y’see, Tabby, we all have things we’d rather other people not know. Rogue’s secret _apego do cacau_ , and other, more sinister things that draw us all here in the dead of night,” Roberto said easily, taking Rogue’s cup in his hand and glaring at it for a moment before handing it back to her.

“Aw, Sunburn, whah do you always make it so damn hot?” Rogue muttered, putting the mug down and blowing at it. “Where’s Drake when ya need him?”

Jamie and Tabby, meanwhile, had scooted in next to Rahne in the slowly dwindling number of empty chairs at the kitchen table. Scott wordlessly offered them cups, pushing a jug of milk towards them.

“Well, this late night meeting of DTMC should come to order,” Roberto said, banging his cup on the table for order.

“Well, Roberto, It’s not late night anymore, if ye think on it,” Rahne interjected, grinning.

“Fine, this early morning meeting of DTMC – ”

“What’s that?” Jamie interrupted, before covering his mouth and muttering to himself. Tabby ruffled his hair. This kid was all right.

“Dysfunctional Teen Mutant Club,” Scott recited, grinning, “We were discussing having t-shirts ordered.”

Tabby opened her mouth in confusion before Rogue cut her off. “Whah don’t you let me or Scott lead the meeting, Sunburn? We’re the founding members, after all.”

“Well, I make it sound more official, and my accent is cooler besides.”

“Is this really a club for dysfunctional teens?” mused Tabby, as Rogue told Roberto what he could do with his cool accent.

“No, it’s not really,” Rahne answered softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I think it was just Scott at firs.’”

“At first what?” Tabby elaborated, cheering as Rogue pinned Roberto against the wall. “What I mean is, what _is_ this? Why is everyone awake?”

“Tha’s the point, isn’t it?” Rahne said, grinning. “On’y us here know why everyone’s up. Ye know a bit yerself, If ye think on it.”

“Sunburn? Roberto? What’s wrong?” Rogue’s voice drifted over to them and they looked around in concern. Scott was already up, helping Roberto up off the floor where it looked like he’d collapsed, and pulling him to the sink, where the poor Brazilian decided to be violently sick.

Tabby exchanged shocked glances with Jamie, who was pale. Roberto was his roommate, after all. Scott was saying something to him.

“ – Just a few hours, buddy. Just a little longer, and we’ll both feel better.”

“ _Deus_ ,” Roberto said weakly as he came shakily back to the table, “ _Eu não sinto bem_.”

“English, Roberto,” Scott coaxed, getting him an orange from the fridge.

“Are you okay?” Jamie asked Roberto, still pale with worry.

“What’s up?” Tabby asked Rahne, as Roberto started peeling the orange and cramming even the peels into his mouth.

“His mutation, I think,” she answered, a little pale herself, “He canna work righ’ without the sun.”

“ _Eu aponto...o No_ ,” Roberto shook his head, sitting up a little straighter. “Sorry,” he said slowly, “I appoint Scott to lead this meeting.”

Scott chuckled. “All right, sure,” he said, grinning and standing up. “We all know why we’re here. But we’d all like to know why everyone else is here. I confess to a sickness not unlike Roberto’s, coupled with a few choice nightmares for this meeting.”

Tabby looked at Jamie, who avoided her gaze, and at Rahne, who looked at her graham cracker interestedly. These guys…they all had nightmares too?

“Ah’ve absorbed no less than…seven? Eight people? They have their own stuff goin’ on when Ah’m sleepin,’ so Ah don’t sleep much,” Rogue said, glancing at Roberto in worry.

“Night sickness,” Roberto said then, raising his hand and grinning in a sickly sort of way. “When the sun goes down, Roberto does too.”

Tabby looked in surprise at Jamie when he raised his hand. “I…I have n-nightmares sometimes. The…the w-wind scares me.”

“Nightmares,” Rahne said quietly, the one word explanation enough.

“Ditto,” Tabby said, smirking up at Scott. So what happened next? Group therapy session?

“All right, we’re missing a few people tonight. Let’s take a minute to be grateful they’re not among us,” Scott said, and silence ensued for half a minute.

“Now Kurt usually –”

“Blue? He has nightmares too?” Tabby blurted, and felt Scott’s eyes upon her.

“Yeah. He does. As do Jean and Logan, who aren’t here. Logan never sits up with us, but he knows we’re out here, and he never rats us out to the others.”

“What do they have –”

“That’s for them to tell, Tabitha. Not us. We don’t talk about the misfortunes of anyone but ourselves here. But only if we want to.”

“Tabby, Shades,” she said coolly, crossing her arms. If he was going to be all uptight and leader-y to her, she was going to make it harder for him. “The name’s Tabby.”

“All right, then, Tabby.” He almost smirked back. “I’d like to know your perception of everyone here, since you know they have something in common with you.”

“Shocked, I guess,” Tabby said carelessly, shooting a question back at him. “How about you, Shades? What’s your perception of me, since I’m blatantly acting like such a smart-ass?”

“I think it’s a defense mechanism you have to distract people from yourself. You don’t want to let anyone too close to you, and you turn questions around with accusations and impudence,” Scott answered just as carelessly, folding his arms. “Surprised?”

Tabby didn’t say anything, just dug into the graham crackers, biting into one ferociously.

“No one should feel badly for being here, Tabby. No one should be ashamed of their nightmares, or their pasts. The past is behind all of us now, and even if it catches up to us, we are different people now, or we wouldn’t be here.”

Tabby still stayed silent, but she looked up at Scott. He was grinning at her. He wasn’t angry, just…extremely outspoken. Kind of like herself…

“One thing no one knows about you. Let’s do that. It can be something silly, or something serious, but we all need to keep sleep at bay until the Danger Room session in a few hours, so we have to keep talking. I’ll go first. I’ve…hmm…Oh, I know! I’ve met Rahne’s foster-mom, Dr. MacTaggart. She helped make my first pair of sunglasses.” Scott tapped his lenses and looked at Rahne, whose eyes were wide.

Tabby looked at Rahne. She was sitting with her arms around her knees, her heels resting on the edge of her chair. She had foster parents? What happened to her real ones?

“I got my powers during a _Jogo de futebol_. Freaked the referee out, too,” Roberto muttered, eating his orange and looking a little better.

“English, Roberto,” Scott chided, grinning.

“Sorry, Sorry. _Futebol_ translates to Brazillian football. Or American soccer. It was a soccer game.”

“Ah lived fahve years in Caldecott before y’all came to recruit me, and before that Ah can’t much remember where Ah lived, or who with,” Rogue said, sipping her cocoa.

“That sucks,” Tabby said softly, and Rogue just nodded.

“I used t’ be a ward of the church,” Rahne said abruptly. She said nothing more, just her blurted truth.

“I’ve never been on an airplane,” Tabby said. “My mom drove me so far, and I hopped a cab to meet the Prof at the airport when I first got here.”

Jamie had been breaking his graham cracker into bits and pieces, and jumped when Tabby touched his shoulder; he was the only one who hadn’t said anything.

“Um, I-I used to l-live…live in K-Kansas,” he stuttered, his face flushing.

“Jamie, take a deep breath, and concentrate,” came Scott’s suggestion.

Jamie breathed as he’d been instructed, and looked at Scott questioningly. He just smiled at him from under his shades. “Jamie, when did you start stuttering?”

“I d-d-don’t usually,” Jamie started, but Scott stopped him.

“Anger, Jamie. Focus on something that makes you mad.”

“Why?”

“Trust me. When did you start stuttering?”

“When I was l-little…I’d, um…I’d talk too fast,” he muttered, stopping and looking at Scott in amazement. “B-but it w-was –”

“Better?”

“Yeah!”

“Another little known fact about me,” Scott said smoothly, as everyone looked at him in wonder. “I had a pretty bad stutter before I came to live here.”

“You did?” Jamie asked, looking surprised. “But you n-never stutter. Not even when you get mad at Bobby and Ray for taking your c-car –” Jamie stopped himself, looking alarmed. “D-don’t…don’t say anything…”

Everyone laughed as Scott looked unsure of whether to be mad or not, and he finally just laughed too. “Another round then,” he said, still grinning. “I’ll go again. I…ran away from no less than 3 orphanages and…7 foster families.”

Silence met this statement.

“Who cares fer ye now?” Rahne asked, speaking barely above a whisper.

“You mean my legal guardian? The Professor. I can officially govern myself when I turn 18 in a few months.”

No one was eager to follow his ‘little known fact.’ It was obvious he’d upped the ante, and it was expected for everyone to match his fact in seriousness, and that was one thing this group was unwilling to do. Roberto was the one to break the silence once more.

“My dad made his living honestly, but some people in my _país nativo_ thought he was crooked, so my _mãe_ had to have an escape route planned all the time, and we had to move a lot. That’s why I can pack my things so fast, Jamie,” Roberto looked at his roommate, smiling more easily as a portion of his sickness had faded.

“My…my mom knew I was a…a mutant the day I was born,” Jamie spoke up then, pausing, as it seemed he had difficulty speaking. Tabby attributed it to his struggle to not stutter, but it seemed deeper than that…It was how she must have sounded when she talked about her Dad…

“The…the doctor who helped deliver me thought I had problems with my lungs, so he slapped me…and I duplicated.”

Tabby let out a short cry of laughter, stopping herself uncertainly as the others looked at her oddly. “It was funny in my head, all right?” she said testily, still smirking as Jamie sat back in his seat, relieved that he was done for the time being.

“The man who raised me, Reverend Craig,” Rahne started out shakily, “he made me think I was a damned creature – a…a werewolf. I had to pray all th’ time an’ sleep in th’ church, until…until I left,” she finished lamely, her head sinking into her knees. Tabby felt a strange urge to pat her head, and settled for putting her hand on Rahne’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

There was silence again as all eyes shifted from Rogue to Tabby, the only two who hadn’t spoken. As Tabby opened her mouth, Rogue finally spoke up.

“Ah have to concentrate really hard sometimes to bring mah thoughts to the surface,” Rogue said next. “Ah’m not sure if what I know is really mah knowledge or someone else’s.”

There was a shorter stretch of silence, and Tabby cleared her throat. “I’ve moved…almost more times than I care to count. I think I had it at 23 when I decided to stop caring. My…my mom has been on the run from my Dad since I was 13. I don’t know where he is…and I couldn’t care less.”

Scott didn’t even have to introduce a new round, he just started off Tabby’s statement. “The…the man I lived with the longest…I lived with him for nearly two years. His name was J-Jack.”

Everyone appeared shocked – he’d said moments ago that he used to stutter as a boy, but no one had _ever_ heard him stutter before. Not even Rogue, though she had known him longest of the people in the room. Scott himself looked dismayed.

“Jack…found me on the streets, after I’d run away again…and I went to live with him after we met…And everything went to Hell.”

Scott didn’t say anything else – he was probably still surprised at that stutter that had slipped out – and he seemed to be done.

“Ah…Ah don’t know mah name.”

Everyone looked at Rogue, stunned. She tapped her gloved fingers on her mug absently, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “When Ah first used mah powers, Ah thought, honest-to-God that Ah was a boy named Cody. Mah thoughts never quite sorted themselves out, an’ Ah have memories of childhoods Ah didn’t have, none of which are mah memories in the first place. Y’all think Ah’m so bad-ass, not letting anyone call me anything but Rogue, even the teachers, but Ah…Ah don’t know mah name.”

Another silence presented itself, but Roberto interrupted it next. “I’m scared of my potential power,” he whispered. “The energy from sunlight is so strong; sometimes I don’t know my strength when I rip up a tree or something. I’m always afraid I’ll do something to hurt someone because I’m stronger than I think I am.”

No one wanted to comment on that. No one spoke for a while, though the gazes shifted to Jamie, Tabby and Rahne. Rahne was the next to speak.

“Reverend Craig was a h-horrible person,” she said vehemently. Everyone looked at her in surprise. “He tol’ me t’ wait in th’ churchyard an’ he…he sent the villagers after me t’ lynch me.” Though she spoke the words with spirit, Rahne didn’t seem to believe what she was saying. She hunched over in her chair, her arms wrapped securely around her knees.

Tabby opened her mouth, but Jamie beat her to the punch.

“My mom and dad died,” he blurted. “It was a tornado. I was shifted between my aunt and some foster families before the professor found me. After my aunt couldn’t take care of me any more, my powers started working. At school one day, when I was still in my first foster home, someone threw a basketball at me, and I caught it, but then there were two of me.”

“My dad punched me out for booming his lasagna,” Tabby said simply. She hadn’t waited for a silence, for the eyes to slowly turn to her, or for Jamie to feel pressured, she just said what she needed to say. Maybe her mom had been right all these years. She called those hotlines – suicide watch, and a tobacco help-line, even though she wasn’t a smoker, or suicidal. She just called to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge her.

No one spoke. Tabby assumed that they, like her, were filling in gaps in the facts that had been revealed to them. So Scott had gone to live with Jack, where his life had, assumedly, been so hellish he developed a stutter? Rahne’s Reverend Craig had betrayed her, and Tabby sensed more behind that story. Jamie’s parents were dead. Woah. Didn’t see that one coming. Rogue really did have a reason to be so bitchy all the time. Go figure. Roberto? Just your typical Portuguese-mutant-soccer-loving teenager with rich parents and a night sickness problem. No big.

“Aw, hell, we’re all just screwed up, ain’t we?” Rogue drawled, sipping at her cocoa and reaching into the box of Graham crackers.

“Aye,” Rahne said, showing a small smile and nibbling more certainly at her own cracker.

Abruptly, the tension gone, Jamie asked Scott about his stutter, Rogue spoke in soft tones with Rahne, presumably about her own hellish childhood, and Tabby decided that these x-geeks weren’t so bad.

“Tabby?”

It was Roberto speaking. She turned to him, and he grinned. “So how big a bomb did you put in your _pai’s_ _alimento_ to make him get so angry with you?”

Tabby laughed, and for the first time in a long time, she told the story behind some of her nightmares. Perhaps this was the first step on the path of propriety. Perhaps she’d change her ways. Perhaps she was too damn tired to care. But needless to say, if she was going to keep her own bad dreams at bay, there wasn’t a better crowd to be doing it with.


End file.
